Twice the Temptation

by Francis Ray

  She gulped and glanced away. “You shouldn’t say things like that.”

  Watching her, he took another swig of water. She was trembling. She was as aware of him as he was of her. “What would happen if I kissed you?”

  Her eyes jumped back to him. “I—I … wish you wouldn’t.”

  Placing the bottle on the counter, he walked to her, his gaze never leaving her. “I’m not other men, Charlotte. I see you. I see the charming, caring woman you are, but I’ve also tasted the passion on your mouth and on your skin.” His fingertip grazed her nipple. It hardened immediately. Closing his hand into a fist, he stepped back. “How can I not want to make love to you knowing you want me to?”

  She fought hard to control her desire for Vincent and answer his question. “Because you have honor and integrity. Because you’re not the kind of man to take advantage of a woman. Because I care for you and I wouldn’t care for a man who would use my feelings against me.”

  “I wouldn’t be so sure,” he said tightly. “Where are you going?”

  “To a charity auction.”

  “You’re one of the items?”

  She blushed. “No, I’m an auctioneer.”

  His hot gaze ran over her, remembering. “You’ll do very well. Good-bye.” Pulling his suit jacket from the back of the chair in the kitchen, he walked past her.

  “Vincent, you can’t go out looking like that,” she called. “Please, I insist on driving you.”

  He looked over his shoulder. “Scared I’d be picked up before I reached my car?”

  The only way she could handle this was to find humor in the situation. “You do look pretty awful.”

  “And you look lovely.”

  “Thank you. I’ll get my purse and you better be here when I get back.” Picking up her skirts, she ran past him. In her bedroom, she snatched up her shawl, fumbled to transfer her necessary items into an evening bag the size of her hand, then rushed back out. He was still there, arms folded, leaning against the counter in the kitchen.

  “Don’t forget to set the alarm this time.” Pushing away from the counter, he walked out the door.

  Charlotte activated the alarm and followed. In less than three minutes she pulled up behind Vincent’s car. A lump formed in her throat. “Good-bye, Vincent.”

  “Is this a private auction or can anyone attend?”

  Excitement and hope rushing through her, Charlotte opened the glove compartment and handed Vincent an invitation. “This will get you in.”

  He got out of the car. “I’m not making any promises.”

  “I know.” Charlotte pulled away from the curb, unable to stop herself from glancing at her rear-view mirror. Vincent stood on the sidewalk, watching her just as she was watching him.

  In the back of Vincent’s mind he’d always known he wouldn’t be able to stay away. The auction was being held at a billionaire’s estate. The grounds and mansion were spectacular, with ten fireplaces, an indoor and outdoor pool, a lake for boating, a pond for fishing, a tennis court, two libraries, and every marvel known to man. However, to Vincent, the real marvel was standing on a small raised platform, shimmering and beautiful beneath a Waterford chandelier. Charlotte.

  With charm and grace Charlotte worked her magic on the crowd, gently coaxing them to go just a little bit higher for the sake of the children’s hospital. She smiled, winked, flattered, and bedazzled. Men and women lapped it up like whipped cream. But she could also be a steel magnolia, if needed.

  Once she hadn’t gotten the price she thought acceptable for a weekend getaway package for two at the Crescent Court Hotel, a five-star hotel in Dallas, and she had refused to let it go. Since she couldn’t change the auction rules of highest bid winning, she simply took a seat, crossed her legs, and waited for the bidding to go higher.

  Not wanting to see her embarrassed if no one bid, Vincent had lifted his number. The smile she sent him was more potent than hundred-proof whiskey. Other bidders jumped in. Vincent found his hand going up again and again until he won the bid. Mary Lou, who was there with Helen, had winked and nodded approvingly at him.

  Vincent was rather dazed when a young woman came up to him and handed him his claim ticket. He didn’t need a weekend package for two. Then he glanced at Charlotte and admitted the truth. She simply dazzled him. He’d do anything for her. It remained to be seen if that included not doing what he wanted to do to her.

  A white-jacketed waiter passed and Vincent plucked a glass of champagne from his tray. Of all the available women in the Southwest, he had to be attracted to one with deep Southern roots and morality. He’d been celibate before, but he had never wanted a woman as much before.

  Charlotte had expected Vincent to insist on following her home, but had not a clue what to expect afterward. Walking through the house from the garage, she never remembered being so nervous or filled with such anticipation. She opened the front door and he was there. Dark and dangerous and so desirable. Moonbeams draped over his broad shoulders.

  Neither spoke, simply looked at the other for long endless moments.

  As if coming to a decision, Vincent stepped closer until the warmth of their breaths and bodies mingled. “I can’t imagine not wanting you, but neither can I imagine walking away.”

  Her breath and words trembled over her lips. “I feel the same way.”

  He took another step. Their bodies touched, breasts to chest, thigh to thigh. “I’ll try, but I’m not making any promises.”

  “I know.” She had come to her own decision. “Would you like to come in?”

  He shook his head. “Too far. I need to kiss you now.”

  With the raw passion simmering just beneath the surface of his voice, Charlotte expected the kiss to be rough and demanding. Instead it was a gentle exploration of reassurance that gradually deepened into something rich and deep and arousing. Feeling her control slipping, Charlotte eased back and placed her head on Vincent’s chest. His heart beat erratically, but his arms were locked around her as if he’d never let her go.

  “I have to go out of town for a few days, but I’ll be back Saturday. You want to go sailing?” he asked, his voice thick and tight.

  Despite the needs clawing at her, she leaned her head back and smiled up at him. “That’s certainly better than weeding the flower bed, as I’d planned.”

  “We can do both,” he said, enjoying the feel of her in his arms as much as the quick emotions that flashed across her face.

  “Somehow I can’t imagine you on your hands and knees in the dirt,” she told him.

  “My mother has a flower garden and I used to help her.” As he remembered, gardening was hard, tiring work. Good. “Eight early enough?”

  “I’ll fix breakfast.”

  “See you Saturday.” Opening the door behind her, he gently pushed her inside and closed the door.

  Vincent amazed Charlotte again. He’d shown up Saturday morning casually dressed in faded jeans and a melon-colored polo shirt, ready to work. The dandelions hadn’t stood a chance. When she’d mentioned she wanted more flowers on the patio in pots, he’d insisted that they forgo sailing and go to the nursery. It wasn’t until later in the afternoon that she realized he might have an ulterior motive for working so hard: Both of them would be too tired to think about sex.

  If she hadn’t been already in love with him, she would have fallen.

  After they’d cleaned up, she’d grilled steaks and they’d enjoyed their meal on the patio surrounded by blooming flowers in Mexican urns, clay pots, and baskets hanging from the wrought-iron posts Vincent had installed. Only once or twice did she think of how wonderful it would be to have him as a husband and there all the time with her.

  But he hadn’t made any promises. He might leave today and never return. Even as the thought saddened her, she refused to give up hope.

  The kiss that night was brief. They had looked at each other and realized that no matter how tired their bodies were, they still wanted each other.

  The nex
t day at church Charlotte noticed that Emma and Brian were nervous wrecks, worrying that a catastrophe was waiting for them. After services Charlotte called Vincent and asked him to meet them at Emma’s house. He was there within the hour.

  With his help, they had gone over every detail, reassured the anxious couple, then double-checked the checklist. Charlotte would contact the guests who had not responded, go with Emma on Monday to meet with the wedding photographer and the videographer. Vincent would go with Brian the same day to pick up the wedding rings and check the engraved inscriptions on them, and check on the entertainment.

  When Emma and Brian had finally calmed and had been reassured of a wonderful wedding, Charlotte had glanced up to see Vincent watching her with a curious expression on his face. She had frowned at him, but he had shaken his head and suggested he take everyone, including Emma’s and Brian’s parents, sailing and then out to dinner.

  Everyone accepted. They’d had a wonderful time. Sailing had soothed the frayed nerves of anxious parents and edgy children. As the evening progressed, Charlotte also felt a lessening of the tension in her own body.

  When Vincent let her take the wheel of the speedboat, he stepped behind her to guide and help. She felt alive instead of nervous. With his arms around her, the wind in her hair, she tossed him a grin over her shoulder.

  “Watch where you’re going,” he said, but he was smiling too.

  Facing forward, Charlotte smiled. She was seeing another more playful side of Vincent and she heartily approved.

  In the days that followed, she approved even more. She and Vincent saw each other almost daily. He said he was making sure she didn’t let his plants die. She replied that she babied them shamefully. That earned her a kiss. It wasn’t easy pulling back then or after the other kisses that followed, but they managed.

  Two days before the wedding, Vincent had to go out of town. Since the wedding rehearsal and dinner were the next evening, and he wasn’t sure how long he’d be away, he’d only told Charlotte. As much as he had been against the wedding in the beginning, he had finally realized how much Brian and Emma loved each other and he was happy for them. He had also come to realize that loving a person meant putting your needs behind what was best for them.

  “First-class passengers may now board Flight 1222 for Chicago, Illinois.”

  Grabbing his garment bag and laptop, Vincent stood and followed the other first-class passengers onto the plane. On board, he handed the stewardess the bag and his suit jacket, and took his seat.

  Instead of opening his laptop to work, he stared out the window and remembered Charlotte’s smile and infectious laughter, the disappointment that she couldn’t hide because he wouldn’t be there tonight to go to his first political rally with her. He remembered her warm body and how good it felt curled trustingly against his on her sofa last night as they watched a comedy.

  He twisted in his seat as his body again made him vividly aware of his long bout of sexual denial. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could do this. A couple of times he was aware that if he pushed Charlotte just a little harder, she would have given herself to him. He hadn’t wanted that. He wanted her there with him every step of the way. Besides, he’d never do anything to destroy her faith in him. So what was the answer? He honestly didn’t know.

  Charlotte was in a quandary. The wedding consultant, the officiating minister, Brian and Emma, and their parents had been asking where Vincent was for the past twenty minutes. They all were clustered in front of the podium with no best man. Charlotte considered confessing that he was out of town when the main doors to the sanctuary opened.

  “Hello, everyone. Sorry I’m late,” Vincent greeted, his long legs quickly carrying him down the aisle.

  “I’m just glad you’re here,” Brian said, relief etched on his face as he reached out to shake the extended hand of his cousin. “Working late as usual, I see. I’ve already warned Emma my hours are going to get crazier at work.”

  Emma smiled up at her fiancé. “I’ll miss you, but I understand it’s important to you.”

  “Now that the best man is here, let’s get started,” said the wedding consultant as she hustled the bridesmaids and groomsmen back down the aisle of the church, Charlotte with them. She hadn’t even gotten a chance to speak with Vincent.

  Impatiently, Charlotte listened to the instructions she knew as well as the consultant. Her face must have said as much for the woman gave her a stern look of disapproval and said, “I know some of you have gone through this many times before, but others have not.”

  All of the other women except Emma looked at Charlotte. She’d never felt more keenly that she’d never be a bride.

  “I’m sure you’re right, Mrs. Phillips,” Emma said in the ensuing silence. “But good manners are never out of place.”

  Charlotte blinked at the ready defense by Emma. Mrs. Phillips, however, lifted her pointed nose higher at the rebuke.

  “Brian and I want our wedding to be absolutely perfect, Mrs. Phillips, that’s why we chose you. You’re the best at what you do. We know we won’t be disappointed,” Emma continued.

  Mrs. Phillips preened. “No, you shan’t. Groomsmen, line up by height as I instructed earlier.”

  The paired men started down the aisle, followed by each bridesmaid. Seeing Mrs. Phillips’ attention elsewhere, Charlotte felt it safe to whisper to Emma, “Thanks, and very well done.”

  Emma’s smile was impish. “After watching you all these years I should know how to get my point across.”

  “You learned well. My turn.” Charlotte stepped out and started down the aisle and saw Vincent standing beside Brian. Love washed over her, and something close to fear. Her steps faltered, then she continued despite the pain deep in her chest. Would he ever love her?

  Never a bride. Never a bride. Never Vincent’s bride.

  The taunting beat replayed itself over and over in her head as she walked slowly down the aisle when she wanted to run out of the church. Instead she dutifully took her place to the right of the minister, aware that she might never stand before him with the man she loved.

  Vincent had never seen Charlotte look so sad or so hauntingly beautiful. Whether by accident or design, she’d worn an ankle-length sleeveless white sheath. She might have been a bride herself. The thought brought him up short.

  Charlotte had made it no secret that she wanted to get married, planned to get married. One day a man would come along who would win her. A mixture of jealousy and anger swept through Vincent at the thought of any man touching her, kissing her, making love to her.

  “Isn’t she beautiful?”

  Vincent pulled his unsettling thoughts back to the present. His narrowed gaze went from Brian to Emma, on the arm of her father, slowly coming down the aisle. She was beautiful. From her radiant expression it was obvious she knew that she was loved, cherished, and wanted. Beside Vincent, Brian’s face split into a wide, proud grin. He had done well for himself. He might be young, but he apparently knew what he wanted and how to get it.

  Vincent on the other hand was still floundering. He craned his neck to see Charlotte and couldn’t. Then, seeing the eagle-eyed consultant’s attention on Emma, Vincent moved back until he saw Charlotte, her head slightly bent. His heart turned over.

  She looked up and straight into his eyes. Vincent felt as though the world had dropped away from his feet. No, he quickly amended, he was looking at his world. Charlotte. As the realization sank in, his heart pounded, his legs felt wobbly. It couldn’t be.

  “Vincent, are you all right?” Brian asked.

  Vincent didn’t know how to answer. Somehow he finally managed to answer, “I’m fine. I shouldn’t have skipped lunch.”

  Brian slapped him lightly on the shoulder. “When we finish here we’re having the rehearsal dinner, so just hang in there.”

  Vincent was hanging, all right, and the rope was unraveling fast.

  Charlotte was miserable. Each time she’d catch Vincent’s attention at the reh
earsal dinner, he’d quickly look away. To make matters worse, they were dining at Fish and one of Brian’s groomsmen, a man she’d never met before, was trying to hit on her.

  She’d tried ignoring him, gave him warning looks, but nothing seemed to dent his thick skull. The only thing that saved the overbearing man from a drink dumped in his lap to cool him off was the fact that he kept his hands to himself and she didn’t want to ruin the evening for Brian and Emma.

  By ten she was more than ready to go home. However, as maid of honor she had to wait until all the others had gone. Finally, there was only her and Vincent waiting for the valet to bring their cars.

  “Charlotte, I realize you’re tired, but do you mind coming back to my place? I’d like to ask your opinion about something,” Vincent said.

  Charlotte was about to say no when he added, “It’s about the wedding. It won’t take long.”

  Charlotte bit her lower lip as indecision and regret held her still. Vincent lived downtown in the new and chic town homes on Turtle Creek. And he had never asked her to his home before. Foolishly she wished that the first time hadn’t been for the sake of someone else.

  The valet pulled up with her car. Vincent’s arrived seconds later. She pushed her earlier thoughts aside. This was for Brian and Emma’s sake. “All right.”

  “Just follow me.” Tipping her valet, then his, he got in his car and drove away.

  Charlotte followed, determined to hear what Vincent had to say, then leave. Determined not to let one tear fall.

  The residential building was as posh as the upscale address implied with a rose marble entryway, an immense flower arrangement in the center of the rotunda, curved stairway, and sparkling chandelier. As she followed him inside his home, Charlotte fleetingly noted the hardwood floor and tasteful furnishings.

  “Would you like a glass of wine?”

  “No, thank you.” She sat on the sofa and rested her purse in her lap. She didn’t plan to stay long. “What about the wedding? Is there some problem I don’t know about?”